Alexa sat at the edge of her bed, as her fingers clutched the sheets so tightly the fabric threatened to tear. The mansion was too quiet and it was the kind of silence that mocked her thoughts, and amplified them until they roared in her ears.
"Why did I say that?" she muttered, as she pressed a palm against her forehead. I can't replace your dead wife, Marcus. The words replayed again and again, and each time it did, it was sharper, crueler than she had ever intended.
Her chest felt heavy with an ache she couldn't name. Marcus's cold eyes had burned into her, and the way his voice cracked with restrained anger—Leave, Alexa. It wasn't just rejection. It was something deeper, like she had trampled on sacred ground.
She exhaled shakily, as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror across the room. It was pale and tense. She pressed her lips thin. Why does it hurt?
She shouldn't care. Not about him, not even about his grief, not about how she'd seen a flicker of something—something human—in his eyes before the wall slammed back up. She was here for Aaron. She was here on a mission. Nothing more.
So why did it feel like a blade twisting in her chest?
Her hands clenched in her lap, as her nails bit into her skin. "Get a grip, Alexa. You don't break. You don't… care." But even as she whispered the words, they rang hollow.
A sharp vibration against her desk broke the silence. Her phone.
Alexa blinked, dragging herself to her feet and snatching it up. The name on the screen made her stomach drop—Administrator.
Her pulse quickened, because this was no ordinary man, he was a man who knew too much. The man who controlled too much. Why now?
She hesitated only a second before answering, her voice low, steady, masking the turmoil inside.
"...What do you want?"
The line crackled faintly, a heavy pause pressing against her ear.
Then the Administrator's voice came through, calm and measured. "We need to talk."
Alexa's heart clenched. The words felt like the beginning of something she wasn't ready for.
Scene 2: Someone you're not
Marcus sat alone in his study, the fire in the hearth casting restless shadows against the shelves lined with books. A half-drained glass of brandy sat untouched at his desk, forgotten as he leaned back, hands steepled beneath his chin.
He had replayed every second of their argument—her words, his response, the look in her eyes before she left. That single sentence still rang in his ears like a bell he couldn't silence.
I can't replace your dead wife, Marcus.
His jaw tightened. Rosalina's name had always been untouchable, sacred. To hear it twisted, even accidentally, clawed at something deep inside him. He didn't know what angered him more—that Alexa had said it… or that some part of him hated how much her words mattered.
Shaking his head, Marcus rose and crossed to the window, looking out into the moonlit gardens below. He had noticed changes, subtle ones. Attacks too conveniently timed. Whispers in the halls. His son's heirship being spoken of in shadows. And always, always Alexa at the center.
His phone buzzed sharply against the desk, snapping him from his thoughts.
Marcus answered curtly. "What is it?"
The voice on the other end was low, strained. "Sir… you need to be careful. Someone under your roof isn't who they claim to be."
Marcus stilled, the words coiling around him like a vice. "…What do you mean?"
"They're playing a role. They're lying about who they are. And if you don't find out soon… Aaron will be the one to pay."
The line went dead.
Marcus's hand remained clenched around the phone, his reflection in the dark window suddenly sharper, harder.
Someone in this house was a fraud. And now… his instincts narrowed dangerously onto one thought.
Alexa.
Scene 3: iT should have been me all along
Outside the study, the hallway was cloaked in silence—except for the faint creak of the floorboards as Nina lingered in the shadows.
She had paused just long enough to hear the most delicious part of Marcus's phone call. Her lips curled into a slow, venomous smile as she leaned against the wall, pressing a hand over her chest to stifle her bubbling laugh.
"Oh, Marcus…" she whispered to herself, eyes gleaming with triumph. "Finally, you're starting to doubt her. Finally, you'll see Alexa for what she really is."
Her nails dug into the polished wood of the banister as her mind spun with delight. Every word Alexa spoke, every glance Marcus spared her—it had all been like knives. But now… now the cracks were showing.
Nina's envy twisted into something darker, hotter. "You won't have to suffer long, Marcus. I'll be the one by your side in the end. Just like I was always meant to be."
She pulled back into the darkness, her smile wicked, her footsteps soft. For the first time in years, she felt ahead of the game.
And Alexa?Alexa had no idea how close the noose was tightening.